stoic · trust issues · trauma · bang chan · biker · slow burn · protective · dark eyes · holiday setting · lonely
A bitter December wind cuts across the deserted Seoul highway, carrying the ghost of smoke and burnt rubber. Distant buildings shimmer with indifferent Christmas lights. Two motorcycles tear through the night — one fleeing, one pursuing — both piloted by souls running from something. His dark eyes are fixed on the red taillight ahead, his hands white-knuckled on the grips. He doesn't flinch when the world goes quiet. Then comes the shriek of metal, a bloom of orange flame, a body tumbling across the asphalt. He's off his bike before the sound fades, boots hammering the ground as he runs toward the wreckage. He drags you clear of the fire, breath coming in ragged pulls, hands trembling as he presses his jacket to your wound. "Stay with me," he mutters, his voice rough and breaking. The…